Sleeveless
by Diana Prallon
Summary: He didn't want things to get sour between them, so, the part of him that hoped and ached for a completely new thing should be completely be quiet and silent when he was to speak with the man. Obviously, some things are easier said than done.


**Sleeveless**

_It starts just a few days after his first battle as a Knight of Camelot._

Those were a few stressing days, and there was much to be done. As one of the biggest people around, Percival was often called to help with the heavy stuff. But, even a big man has a limit, and it doesn't take long for him to acquire a sprain muscle – on his back, complicating some of his arm movements.

Since there were still many seriously wounded people around, Gaius had decided to leave him in Merlin's capable hands. The physician gave his apprentice some salve, oils and a potion that when mixed with the ale, would help to relieve the pain that had confined Sir Percival to bed.

It wasn't the kind of lesion that could be resolved quickly, and even after Percival was out of bed and getting back to his newly acquired duties, Merlin still would come around every night to make sure the muscles were healing properly. As the night fell and the Prince went to sleep, Merlin would make his way to the knight's room and prepare his ale, before taking him to bed so he could massage the area while applying the salve.

Merlin was used to the many intimacies and natural closeness that came from both his job as Arthur's manservant and as a physician in-training. He had dealt with so many similar things over the last few years, that he didn't even consider how strange it might be for someone unaccustomed to such treatments to have him straddling on their hips and using their bum as a seat as he stimulated all of their back with his agile fingers easing muscles.

Ten days into the treatment, came the moment of having Percival moving his arms after the massage and testing every movement of his arm to make sure it was going as planned. Merlin didn't even flinch when he raised his body and gestured the knight to turn, he didn't pay much heed, at first, to his friend's reluctant movements, taking it to be the first signs of the relaxed sleep that was supposed to follow their session.

He helped Percival with some opening and closing the wide, muscular arms – open wide, wrapping his own body, down nearing their hips, up as Merlin held firmly to his wrists, far above the knight's head. As he let go of the arms, he moved his hands back down, starting to test the muscles above and around the upper area of the chest; still straddling the big man under him, unconcerned with anything but the medicine until distractedly sat back.

That was when everything went to hell.

Merlin couldn't hold up a surprised sound when he met the hardness underneath the body, his eyes opening wild as he looked to Percival's flushed face – contorted in anger and embarrassment for just a few seconds before the screaming begun.

"Get out. OUT. OUT!"

Merlin couldn't leave fast enough, his own breath raggedy and scared with the fury he saw directed to him. He had been so used to such procedures that he hadn't even considered the possible reactions – it had been years, but he could still remember the terrifying feeling of having his body reacting to Arthur against his will on his first days.

He wanted to assure Percival it was fine – that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed about, but he knew better than to do it now. There was always tomorrow – and then they could talk before he started.

The following morning, before Merlin was even up, Percival had come around and told Gaius he was fine and didn't need – or wanted – Merlin to waste his time taking care of his back.

* * *

_It takes days for him to manage to do find a moment to talk to Percival._

Merlin had always enjoyed somewhat to watch the knight's training. There was something swift and mortal about the way they moved while fighting. Also, Arthur loves to discuss how it goes, so, Merlin might as well pay attention.

But those few days after Percival dropped his treatment, he found it hard to concentrate on what was happening. The weather was inclement, and the hotness made them all sweaty. Percival couldn't find a chain mail that fitted his arms, and since one of the deaths was of the royal smith, they've only got Elyan to deal with this kind of thing now. There hasn't been enough time for them to make a new mail yet, so Elyan just took the sleeves out of the biggest one and promised to make larger ones as soon as he could.

Somehow, Merlin found himself paying a particular brand of attention to the knight. The lack of sleeves enables him to see things he could never notice before about swordfights – the way the muscles pull and the strong lines of his tendons as he grips the blade. He can see how each movement is made with the whole of his body, the neck reacting to it and the thick legs moving alongside the arms, and there's something beautiful about it.

His mouth got dry, his pants got tight. And every time Percival saw him looking, he'd grow flushed and attack his opponent with a renewed enthusiasm. Merlin knew it was a way to show anger, but he couldn't avoid thinking just how much it appealed to him in a primal way. He had always had an eye for handsome man, even if he mostly did nothing about it – he wasn't ashamed of it either.

So he chose not to go after the knight right after the practice – there were too many emotions and reactions still going around. He could hardly find the courage to comfort him when his own mind was imagining things are ought to be well away from his head in order to make them feel natural around each other.

He didn't want things to get sour between them, so, the part of him that hoped and ached for a completely new thing should be completely be quiet and silent when he was to speak with the man.

Obviously, some things are easier said than done.

* * *

_When it happens, it's only natural_.

Percival was flushed and babbling, Merlin was fighting to control himself, they were both pretending that nothing ever happened – or that it meant nothing – when something between them simply snapped. The knight looked to the servant for a moment longer than usual, and the warlock felt his body leaning towards him, half tripping and half in control, his hands clenching around the other man's arm and their mouths crashing.

Merlin was surprised to find the kiss sweet and caring – he was expecting something deeply feral, a fight, a denial, not the soften openness of Percival's mouth under his. The taller man licked and bit his lips, and Merlin gasped, surprised. Some parts of his body felt like melting, others seemed to be cast in iron. When they parted, there was a light smile on Percival's face.

It took a while, but they eventually ireally/i talked about what was happening, and slowly, their relationship deepened. There were secret smiles and a healthy dose of cuddling. After sometimes, there's even more than that – but nobody needs to know about it, nobody needs to hear it; it is about the two of them and the things they find out together, never having tried anything like it with someone else. There are confessions spoke in candle light before sleep arrives, and a warm feeling that envelops them whenever they are together.

Percival never wear sleeves again.


End file.
